At the same time—
In Japan.
Ryota Kise stood at the center of the field, lifting the regional championship trophy for the second consecutive time.
Cameras flashed endlessly.
Cheers echoed around him.
He smiled brightly.
Perfect.
Flawless.
Exactly what everyone expected.
Click.
Click.
Click.
"…We did it again!"
A teammate shouted nearby.
Kise kept smiling.
Waving.
Shining.
But inside—
He was somewhere else.
Midorima-chi…
The memory of their promise resurfaced.
Clear.
Sharp.
Unforgettable.
…He really left.
Kise's smile didn't falter.
Not even for a second.
Winning became… too easy.
He adjusted the trophy slightly for the cameras.
Without Midorima-chi…
There's no one left who can push me.
His fame had grown.
Not only in football—
But also as a model.
Photoshoots.
Interviews.
Recognition.
I should be happy…
But something felt off.
Empty.
I haven't improved.
His smile remained perfect.
It's been two months…
No progress.
I'm just getting physically stronger.
Faster.
Sharper.
A pause.
A crack.
…Is this my limit?
For the first time—
Doubt.
Is Midorima-chi… still stronger than me?
His grip on the trophy tightened slightly.
So subtly no one noticed.
Over the past two years—
Kise had developed his ego.
Refined it.
Solidified it.
But at the same time—
Without realizing it—
He was becoming something else.
A frog in a lake…
thinking it knows the ocean.
"Kise! Let's celebrate!"
Another teammate ran up to him.
"We won again this year!"
Kise looked at him.
Paused.
…Maybe I do deserve it.
I trained hard.
I gave everything.
Midorima-chi always trained hard too…
And I could still keep up with him.
A small smirk formed.
Confident.
Almost arrogant.
Now I'm faster.
Stronger.
If he were here…
I don't think he could stop me anymore.
"…Yeah."
Kise smiled.
"Let's celebrate."
But deep inside—
Something remained unresolved.
Something waiting.
Four years later
Brazil.
Shintaro Midorima finished his morning training.
Sweat dripped from his body.
His breathing was heavy.
Controlled.
He stood in front of the mirror inside the gym.
And looked at himself.
Silence.
"…Damn."
He admired the body he had built in this new life.
Tall.
1.84 meters.
84 kilograms.
Muscles carved like marble.
Defined.
Precise.
A body made for performance.
For dominance.
For football.
His physical stats—
High in every aspect of the game.
He no longer wore glasses.
His skin was tanned from the Brazilian sun.
One arm—
Covered in tattoos.
Symbols.
Tributes.
To his family.
To philosophies that celebrated life—
And the idea of giving everything in this one chance.
This body… is unreal.
Midorima stared at his reflection.
It feels like I don't have limits.
A slow breath.
Like I was built… for football.
His eyes sharpened.
One more week.
"In one week…"
"I go back to Japan."
A faint smile.
Excited.
Hungry.
"Blue Lock… finally begins."
The door opened.
Lavinho walked in—
Alongside his nephew.
Same age as Midorima.
The boy stepped forward.
A defender.
Solid.
Reliable.
His name—
Miguel.
"Captain…"
Miguel scratched the back of his head.
"We prepared a farewell party for you."
…He's really leaving.
Lavinho laughed, placing two light taps on Miguel's shoulder.
"Haha, Miguel…"
"No need for all that drama."
"He's just going to play around in Japan."
"You'll meet again in Europe."
"Relax!"
This kid… he's already beyond this place.
Miguel looked embarrassed.
"…Yeah… sorry."
Midorima smiled slightly.
Then looked at Lavinho.
"Lavinho."
"…My answer is still the same."
He picked up his shirt calmly.
Lavinho froze—
Then reacted dramatically, placing a hand over his chest.
"Aaah—so cold!"
"I'm inviting you to one of the best teams in the world…"
"And you're still this stubborn, little Midorima?"
Midorima exhaled.
Shaking his head.
"I won't become number two on any team."
A pause.
"And I want to defeat you."
His smile—
Sharp.
Almost frightening.
You're a step… not the goal.
Lavinho stopped exaggerating.
Then—
He smiled too.
Just as dangerous.
"Perfect."
His eyes gleamed.
"Grow stronger…"
"So I can make you dance in front of the world."
This is what I was waiting for.
They had met when Midorima had been four years in Brazil.
Lavinho had become obsessed with his talent.
And somehow—
They became friends.
After the farewell party the team held—
Midorima lay in his bed.
At home.
Looking out the window.
At the night sky.
Silent.
Blue Lock…
A slow grin formed.
I'm going to destroy everything they put in front of me.
His eyes burned with anticipation.
Every player.
Every ego.
Every dream.
His fist tightened.
"I'll become…"
A whisper.
"The best in the world."
To be continued.
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